After Friendship
by smilelaughread
Summary: I am writing this for the 366 Days of Words Word a day challenge. Ron/Hermione
1. Novation

Hermione got up from the table, sending Ron a teasing glare. He had just walked in through the doorway of their shared apartment three hours later than usual. In fact, he was usually already home by the time she arrived, waiting with take-out without fail.

"Where have you been? You're never not home by six!" Hermione completed her Molly Weasley imitation by placing one hand on her hip and waving the other (which held a spatula) around in the air. Ron sniggered, but ran his fingers though his hair in a manner reminiscent of Harry. What was wrong with him?

He looked her in the eye as she stepped closer to him, wiping his hands on his shirt. Why did he look so nervous?

"Ron..."

He gulped down some air and seemed to recover. Ron put his hands up in front of him and Hermione stopped.

"Hermione, what does 'novation' mean?" he asked, and Hermione felt baffled.

"Why is that relevant?" she asked in return. But Ron only shook his head, waiting for the answer to his question. "Well," continued Hermione, looking up at the ceiling as if the definition was written there "it means 'to introduce something new'. It's also used in muggle law when they-"

"The introduction of something new, right?" He restated, and Hermione furrowed her brows before nodding briefly. "Hermione, I have a propostition for you. I would like to, ahem, novate something."

"Ron, that's not how you use the word..." he wasn't listening. Ron was fumbling around his pocket, looking increasingly red. Finally, he procured something that looked a tiny box. Was that-?

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" He kneeled down on one knee and Hermione blushed.

She nodded mutely, unable to comprehend what was happening for a moment. And then again, more frantically. Her eyes were opened wide and her heart was beating madly. He was serious! she pulled him up and brought him into a searing kiss. When they finally broke apart, Ron took the beautiful ring from the box and placed it on her finger. Hermione smiled hugely - it was a perfect fit!

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><p><strong>This is the first of 365 drabble-type chapters that I have to write for a challenge I signed up for. Each chapter will be inspired by dictionary . com's word of the day. It's for the <strong>366 Days of Words Word a day challenge at HPFC.<strong>**

****This chapter's word was "Novation", as you probably guessed, and this was my not-so creative use of it in a chapter. :D I will probably get another chapter up today, and for the next few days, because I have to catch up (I didn't - obviously - start on the first).****

****Review?****


	2. Truss

"…So… I invited them all."

"You did what… you invited them all? For tonight?" Hermione had to sit down on the sofa to catch her breath. Had Ron gone mad? "How am I supposed to make dinner for nine – is Harry coming too?"

Ron only nodded, looking at the floor guiltily. Hermione sighed and took him by the hand.

"Look at me, Ron." When he complied with her request, she shot him a smile which he returned immediately. "We have exactly two hours to cook enough food to feed… I would say nine, but you Weasleys each eat - no offence - enough for two people, so that means our feast has to be big enough to feed twenty people. Yes?"

Ron looked slightly appalled at the large number, and he finally seemed to realize what he had done. He plopped down on the couch beside her. Ron still held her hand, his grip tightening for a second before he let go.

"Then we should get started!" he announced, full of enthusiasm. Hermione nearly began laughing. He wouldn't be so eager if he knew how much work was in store for them.

Hermione nodded.

"We have a large chicken that I can put in the oven fairly quickly. We have some vegetables for a salad and I think I can find some potatoes to mash. If you could go to the store to find something suitable to drink, as well as the ingredients for…"

By the time she finished listing everything needed to make a quick soup, some sauces, a cake for dessert, and other assorted appetizers, Ron looked slightly green. Then, he practically ran out of the door, thankfully remembering to take his wallet.

And so, two hours later found the – now sweaty and stressed – couple running around, trying to get dressed in time to greet their guests.

"So, what possessed you to offer to host a family get-together?" Hermione asked as Ron showered and she applied some makeup.

He said something, but she couldn't hear it over the rush of water.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I… thought we could tell them about our engagement."

Hermione dropped her tube of lipstick in the sink in shock. "What? You didn't tell me! I was going to prepare a speech and practice. I'm going to make a fool of myself!" Hermione groaned loudly, she tried to clean the sink, but the red oily substance refused to come off. She huffed in annoyance, but collected herself. There was no need to get stressed over nothing...

"Hermione," the water turned off and a pale arm emerged from behind the curtain to take a towel. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out, catching her eye. "You've known them since you were eleven, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank you, Ron." She said, honestly appreciating him trying to comfort her. He nodded, and was about to pull her into a kiss when there was a knock at the door. Ron took his wand from the counter around the sink and _accio'd_ his clothes.

"Go," he urged, pushing her out of the bathroom. "I have to get dressed!"

If she didn't know better, she'd say he sounded worried.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Weasley!" she said as she opened the door. Just as she was about to close it, a few more apparition pops sounded. "Hello, George, Charlie, Bill, Fleur. Come right in!"

Hermione gave them a smile and all but pushed them into the room. She didn't close the door this time, and waited for the next few pops.

"Hello, Ginny. Hi, Harry." She closed the door behind them.

As she walked into the slightly cramped apartment, she saw Ron talking to his family. He was beaming, which probably tipped them off as to what they were there for. Fleur looked distinctly uncomfortable, Bill looked like he was trying hard to cheer her up, and George seemed a bit lonely. She smiled, if a bit sadly, at the family shown before her. And then she realized one of the guests was missing. Where was Molly?

The kitchen! Hermione was suddenly scared. Molly had a passion for all things cooking, and Hermione only hoped she could live up to whatever standards her future mother-in-law had.

Hermione tried not to seem worried as she almost ran to the kitchen, but saw Ginny staring at her in confusion anyway.

"Molly?" Hermione's voice shook, which was ridiculous. It was like Ron had said; she had known Molly for years, there was nothing to worry about. The woman looked over her shoulder to look at Hermione. She was kneeling on the ground. "Are you alright?"

Molly stood up and wiped her hands on her leg, seeming to forget she wasn't wearing an apron.

"Just checking on the chicken, dear. By the way, did you truss it before putting it in the oven?"

Hermione furrowed her brows. The word sounded familiar, but she couldn't remember what it meant. She shook her head.

"But, Hermione, you need to truss a chicken so it keeps its shape!" She sounded slightly offended.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden. If Molly acted this way to her now, not as a part of the Weasley family, what would it be like when she and Ron got married? For a moment, her eyes filled with tears. What if Molly objected to their marriage, saying that her son couldn't possibly marry someone with little skill in the kitchen other than being able to follow a recipe book?

_That's a really stupid thing to worry about, Hermione. Mrs Weasley said herself that she would love to have you as a daughter._

So Hermione blinked the tears away and reached out towards a bemused Molly.

"Come on, Mrs Weasley, Ron and I have something we want to tell you all."

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><p><strong>The word for this chapter was "truss". I only hope I used it correctly :D<strong>

**Let me know what you think so far!**


	3. Solecism

"Hermione and I are engaged." Ron looked slightly flushed as he announced this to his family, hand firmly holding his fiancée's.

Fleur was the first to speak. "Oh, zis eez wonderful news!"

She, for all her discomfort for the past few minutes, now ran up to Ron and Hermione, bringing each of them into a close hug. She muttered something in French, and smiled at them both in turn. Then, turning to look Hermione in the eye, she somehow communicated that she wanted to help pick the dress. Hermione nodded, excited at the prospect of having a Veela (even if it was only a part-Verla) give her fashion advice. Oh, this was going to be perfect!

"No! Ron, don't do it! Marriage is going to restrict you! Don't-" Charlie's shouts were silenced by a Collective Weasley Stare. All eyes turned to him for half a second, and then they were all congratulating the happy couple. They seemed very ready to ignore and pretend Charlie's little solecism hadn't happened. In the interest of a happy evening, Ron and Hermione were ready to do so as well.

In the end, after (suffering through) being pulled into many hugs and being congratulated many times, Ron turned to Charlie, who seemed to be sulking in a corner. After speaking in hushed whispers for a few seconds, Charlie extended a hand to Ron.

"Congratulations, baby brother," he said, though there was an edge of sarcasm "Now I can add you to the list of brainwashed brothers I have; Bill and Percy and... I mean... I wish you all the happiness marriage can bring." he said that last part through gritted teeth, but Ron - who was in such a good mood - just smiled, shook his hand, and thanked him. No fuss.

Hermione waited a few moments for everyone to settle down after the excitement of the news they had just heard, and then announced, "Who wants to eat?"

Charlie brightened considerably at that.

Both Ron and Hermione held back as everyone made their way into the dining room/kitchen.

"That went well, don't you think?" asked Ron, finally placing a kiss on her forehead. Hermione nuzzled into his neck for a moment before pulling away with an apologetic smile.

"Better than I expected," she said "But I am afraid to leave them all in my kitchen! As you know, unattended Weasleys can cause immeasurable amounts of trouble."

Ron laughed, quite amused. "With mum in there, they won't be allowed to inhale the smell without your permission. You know how she is about food and the like..."

He apparently hadn't been quiet enough, because Molly shouted, "Just hurry up and get in here, I can't keep them back much longer. Hermione, this smells wonderful. Thank you for making this lovely dinner."

Hermione beamed at Mrs Weasley as she and Ron stepped into the crowded kitchen and began handing out plates.

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><p><strong>Word: solacism. <strong>

**What are your thoughts so far? **


	4. Fetial

"I got to talking with Percy," said Ron "And at one point he said 'Indifference will be the downfall of mankind'. 'But who cares?' I answered. Percy looked so red..."

Everyone around the table laughed in unison at Ron's joke. He looked pleased with himself at managing to get all of them to laugh. There were, of course a few exceptions; Charlie the dragon tamer simply didn't _laugh out loud_, but he was smiling all the same, slouched in a chair. It was a good sign that he looked so relaxed and comfortable. Maybe he was coming to terms with their engagement?

Hermione suddenly realized that Ron was speaking again. "I don't know what he was on about indifference; I was only inviting him to dinner." At that, he looked at his mother.

Everyone who knew Molly Weasley knew she was truly hurt by his deserting them once again after the war came to an end. Though he had told his family where he lived, not once in the last six months ago or so had he invited them over.

Molly simply brushed him off, still chuckling. She looked a bit flustered, but soon everyone was focused on the next topic of discussion. There was a knock on the door, and Hermione walked over curiously. She held her wand hidden behind her back and opened the door. Percy stood there, looking red and uncomfortable, but really there.

"Percy?" Ron had come out of the kitchen behind Hermione, though she hadn't heard him. "I can't believe you cam - Hermione and I are getting married."

Percy smiled, looking sincere. "Congratulations, Ron. Hermione, you too. Though maybe you should think twice before marrying into the family that is known for producing a lot of children..." his sentence trailed off as he stepped in. After slipping his gloves off and stashing them in his pocket, he froze. Hermione nearly knocked into him, and shot Ron a puzzled glance.

Then, Percy sniffed and grinned. "There's food? It smells good, Hermione!" at that, he rushed to the kitchen.

"Do you think he'll be mad that I didn't mention all of them are here, too?" asked Ron. Hermione ruffled his hair, smiling as he scowled and tried to push it back down.

"No, Ron. I think it's time for them to spend some quality time together."

He nodded, though his brow was still creased with worry. After giving him a wink for strength, Hermione stepped into the kitchen, grinning as he sputtered and then laughed. He soon joined the rest of the family in the kitchen.

Much later, as they were saying goodbye to the last of their visitors, Ron pulled George and Hermione into the kitchen. Hermione gave Mrs Weasley a last squeeze, bidding both her and Mr Weasley a goodnight before letting Ron's insistent tugging at her sleeve pull her away from the door. She made sure to lock it and then turned to face them. George looked as confused as Hermione, but kept his mouth shut.

"How do you two think it went... with Percy there?"

George shot her a small smile, and then caught Ron's eye, all serious looks and unfortunate news. "Mum looked on the verge of tears all evening; I don't know why you invited him. You know how he is! You ruined it for everyone, because he kept going on and on about the ministry and boring us to death!"

Hermione stifled a laugh at George's teasing, his voice sounding just a bit too depressed and innocent to possibly be true. But Ron seemed to believe him, at least until he looked at her. Ron seemed to catch on, making Hermione wonder if she wasn't as good as hiding her emotions as she thought, or if Ron was better at reading her than she thought.

"No, really," whined Ron, looking put out. "Do you think it went alright?"

George shrugged, not seeming up to saying anything else.

"It went well enough," began Hermione, choosing her words carefully. "But he _did_ keep talking about those peace treaties the Ministry is planning on making with-"

"There's a word for someone who is concerned with declarations of war and treaties of peace, isn't there, Hermione?" George grinned at Hermione, and she felt her cheeks redden. Then, she felt shocked. How on earth did George know-?

"Fetial. That's the word you're looking for." she announced.

Ron nodded, looking in need of a dictionary. She left him to it as she let George out. When she asked about his knowledge of such a rarely used word, he only gave her a twinkly-eyed look (reminding her of Dumbledore), and popped away. She shook her head at his antics, and locked the door behind her.

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><p><strong>Word: fetial. <strong>

**Let me know your thoughts!**


	5. Gasconade

The next morning, as Ron awoke next to Hermione, it didn't take him as long as usual to start talking. "Have you read the Prophet yet this morning?"

She shook her head, engrossed in the book she was reading. Despite having been drained of all energy last night, she had dutifully gotten up at seven on the dot that morning, as was routine.

He huffed playfully, used to being ignored in favour of a book after seven years. She barely registered the sound of his bare feet padding to the kitchen, where the pile of mail that arrived daily was always placed by their owl. He padded back and jumped into bed.

"Blimey, it's cold this morning!"

Hermione waved one hand dismissively, "It's probably got something to do with the fact that it's winter and we forgot to turn on the heat last night..."

Ron laughed, opening the paper to see what absurdities had been printed in this latest issue. The room fell into a comfortable silence, with only the rustle of pages being turned breaking it. Neither of them minded, off in their own worlds while reading.

When Ron finally placed the Prophet on the bed, having read the whole thing, Hermione closed her book. "What did it say today?"

"They're still trying to convince everyone that they had some part in defeating Voldemort." Ron scoffed, sounding offended. Hermione shook her head, understanding how he felt. It wasn't so much being upset that they weren't being praised, but that the Ministry was still trying to convince everyone that they had everything under control. Ron pulled a little notebook out from under his pillow and flipped through it for a second.

"That paper is full of gasconade!" he announced after an extended period of time. Hermione was taken aback for a moment.

"You're right, Ron." she said, beaming up at him. He looked glad for her praise, and ran a hand through his hair. "Say, what's with your sudden interest in... words?"

He shrugged, "If we're going to get married, I have to brush up on my vocabulary. It wouldn't do for you to be able to tell me off for doing typical husband-y things without me understanding exactly what you're saying, would it?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, teasing him. "Are you saying I'll have reasons to be upset with you?" Her gaze shifted to her nails, as if she was indifferent about it either way. "Maybe I'll have to reconsider this."

Her left hand lifted to show him the ring, and she wiggled her fingers.

She gasped in surprise as he pushed her back, hands making their way to the sides of her stomach, mercilessly tickling. She thrashed around, laughing hysterically.

"I love you, 'Mione."

"I-I lov-v-ve you too!" she squealed. A thud announced that her book had fallen to the ground. Ron didn't pay attention, leaning over Hermione's body to place a kiss on her lips and finally letting her stop laughing. However, he didn't allow her to catch her breath.

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><p><strong>Gasconade: <strong>**Extravagant boasting; boastful talk.**

**Thoughts?**


	6. Sprat

Two days later, when Monday arrived, both Hermione and Ron had to set alarms in order to ensure that they would awaken on time. Ron groaned a bit, though he brightened considerably after ingesting some caffeine and eating some breakfast. A quick peck on the lips later, and he apparated away. Hermione followed suit immediately after, using magic to send the plates and cups to the sink. She promised herself she would hand-wash those later.

As the day came to a close, Hermione found herself elbow-deep in dishes. She didn't suffer alone, though, forcing Ron - though all it really took to get him to help were a few kisses - to help her. He dried and put things back in their proper spot after she finished washing. There were, admittedly, still plates from when the Weasleys had come over. That was mainly due to Hermione putting off housework until she couldn't take the mess anymore. After years with house elves and then being on the run, she wasn't used to cleaning.

Thankfully, they talked as they cleaned, falling into comfortable conversation. However, just as she picked up the last plate, Ron brought up an interesting topic.

"Hermione," he started, pausing his cleaning and speaking for a second or two, and then continuing both. "I know this is a long way off, but how do you feel about us having... err... kids?"

She didn't answer, squirting soap onto the plate and picking up the dripping sponge.

"Well," began Hermione, thinking over her words before speaking. She had thought about this, after all, though that was all back when she had been convinced Ron would spend his life with Lavender... "I'm an only child, so I've never really been around kids. I don't know how I would do with them."

She rinsed the soap suds off the plate, feeling pensive. It was true. What if she turned out to be a horrible mother? She would have full power and influence over this newborn baby. What if she did something wrong, made a new Lord Voldemort?

Hermione absentmindedly finished washing the plate, handed it to Ron, and wiped her hands, turning away from him in the process.

She suddenly realized Ron had a hand on her arm and that it was pulling her into a tight hug. His chin pressed into her forehead as she stepped in, and she snuggled closer.

"A lot of people think I'm clueless about almost everything except Quidditch and being an Auror. They're wrong, I know you too. I know you - have known you - for long enough to know that that's your stress face. It's never good. Hermione, relax. No pressure. We have the rest of our lives to decide." She nodded into his chest, relaxing. He was right.

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><p><strong>This chapter was inspired by the word: sprat, which means "a small or inconsequential thing". I don't know why that inspired me to write about them having a conversation about having kids, but it did...<strong>

**Thoughts?**


	7. Cimmerian

Hermione turned, but they were closing in on her, taking her farther and farther away from the light. Dark cloaks, drawn hoods, chilling voices. They were floating and were much taller than her. She heard echoing laughter, and her whole body burned. Her heart pounded.

She felt a burst of blinding pain wash over her, and then it was gone, and a deep sense of depression and despair came over. For a moment, her grief was so all-encompassing, so overpowering that she forgot to breathe. However, when she did, she felt the horrible cold seep into her lungs. The dark, gloomy feeling was now not only destroying her from the outside, but was eating away her insides too. She was almost numb enough not to feel anything. Almost.

She fell to her knees as another flash of pain set her blood on fire. She screamed as this power ran through her veins, and began shaking uncontrollably. She wanted to cry, but the pain was gone and she felt numb again. She saw the flash of a silver knife, of wild hair and crazed eyes, and then she closed hers-

"Hermione!" Her eyes flew open once again, though this time it was to her apartment - to Ron.

A moment after her eyelids fluttered open, she had her wand pointed at Ron's heart. Her chest heaved as she panted, though her arm kept steady. Her eyes caught Ron's and he seemed to sense something. Immediately, he put his hands up in a sign of peace. She glared suspiciously for an age, eyes flickering around, looking for any trace that she was here...

Slowly, as the adrenaline wore off and she began to tremble again, she lowered her wand. She knew that if she raised her hand to her face, she would feel fresh tears leaking from her eyes. She wasn't aware that she was doing it, though. Her hand instinctively came to rest on her heart. Its beating seemed to reassure her in some way, and her face relaxed slightly.

Then next moment, Ron had his arms around her. She sniffled, breathing in his familiar scent. She felt him tighten his grip just a bit.

_Get a grip, Hermione. It's not real. She's dead, it's already happened. Ron's real. Think about him... breathe._

She closed her eyes, trying to consciously let go of the memories. Of Greyback and Bellatrix. She tried not to think about those memories, loosening her grip on them and tightening her grip on Ron.

For once he wasn't speaking. On nights - mornings - like these, when one of them woke up with nightmares, they had specific rules and procedures. Ron liked to talk things through and use logic to prove to himself that whatever he had been dreaming about wasn't true or possible. She, however, didn't like talking about the dreams, didn't want to burden others. She needed something real to hold on to to assure herself that this one thing that she held was real. Everything else could go die in a hole somewhere. In the morning, she faced her problems head on, when the darkness wasn't there to scare her.

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><p><strong>The inspiration for this chapter was the word Cimmerian: very dark; gloomy; deep.<strong>

**Thoughts?**


	8. Profligacy

After that not so reassuring start to the day, Ron was worried about letting her go to work.

"Just call in sick," he insisted. "I don't want you to risk your health."

She put up a fight with him, insisting that she shouldn't take advantage of the fact that she was a war heroine. He thought that was a good sign, and stopped trying to convince her. Changing her mind when she had already decided on something had always been a difficult - at best - task. If she thought she could handle people today, then she was going to get through the day.

However, when they both arrived back at the apartment later in the day, she seemed subdued and less eager to talk and joke than usual.

She had, in past years, always been able to - and would always be able to - confuse him. First, she seemed fine, and then she got quiet and pensive. She laughed, and then she would stop and look out the window suspiciously. He knew the dreams always put her on edge, so he didn't comment on it.

Now was a higher moment.

"Ginny and I were speaking a few days ago, just after Bill and Fleur left, about the wedding. She said that we will have thousands of people watching, all because we saved the Wizarding world."

"You say it like everyone's saved the world in their lives," he laughed "But I know what you mean."

She went all serious, hand flinching towards her pocket (and wand) as her eyes moved to the door. A few tense seconds passed, and he cleared his throat.

"Continue," he said, gesturing to her as well.

Hermione looked distracted at best, but nodded. "And she said that I'll have to get a really expensive dress so that I look good on the papers and everything. She says that all the decorating and setting up will have to be done by professionals, that the food will have to be the best available, and that we will have to spend a fortune."

Ron smirked, "Then it's a good thing we have one. The ministry was so nice to award us with money..."

She landed a slight punch on his arm, giggling madly.

"I," her voice was lowered, as if it were possible for Ginny to be listening in to them at that very moment "Think that it's a waste of money. Sure, we can dress up and hire some people to cater and things like that, but what was wrong with Bill and Fleur's wedding. Not too many people, good music-"

"If not for the whole Voldemort thing..."

She nodded, waving the topic off and returning to a lighter one. "I think it sounds too extravagant. I don't want to be eating leftovers for the next ten years!"

"If that's our wedding, think of Harry and Ginny's! I just know they'll decide to tie the knot, as it were, soon! They'll go broke, trying to feed everyone who wants to attend the Boy Who Lived's wedding!"

They laughed loudly, probably angering the neighbours. But in that moment, neither Ron nor Hermione cared what anyone else thought.

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><p><strong>Inspired by the word... Profligacy: reckless extravagancegreat abundance**

**Let me know what you think!**


	9. Heterotelic

Everyone knew that when Hermione got caught up in a good book, it was unlikely that she would put it down for anything short of a fire or something equally life threatening. That was why, in the dead of the night – even though she had to go to work the next day – Hermione could be found setting her book down beside her, sniffling softly.

The act of placing her book down and shifting her body so that she was lying down woke Ron, who took one look at the light that was still on and the book beside her before sighing.

"You know," said Ron, turning onto his other side in order to get a better look at her. "It's your own fault… If you didn't read those books, you wouldn't be sobbing like there's no tomorrow right now." He wasn't really angry, more amused. The war heroine, Hermione Granger, couldn't handle a fiction book about muggles... He was also slightly annoyed because it was past three in the morning, and he needed his sleep.

His words fell upon deaf ears as she began to sob slightly louder.

"Those books are all the same! Some normal, everyday woman catches the attention of the most unattainable man in existence," Ron was exaggerating, but all the books he had been forcefully persuaded (not really) to read had started the same way. "He can't believe this unremarkable woman has caught his attention, getting his heart broken in an attempt to distance himself or breaking her heart by telling her that he doesn't really love her… Need I continue?"

Again, it seemed she wasn't listening, but he still continued.

"No," he said, answering his own question. "I don't need to keep going because… Oh, for Merlin's sake, why are you crying?"

"They… he… they were going to be so... together... he died… and now… they were so perfect together! Why did he… evil… plot… they're like pawns on a chessboard," Hermione wailed. "It's like they were living for something bigger than themselves, something that would… a bigger plot. Why! Why did she let him?"

Ron was confused, even though he supposed this vaguely followed his rough description. There was an apparently powerful man, a woman that should have resisted him… they were very different but complimented each other, if Hermione's description of 'they were so perfect together,' was to be believed, and in the end, he died - that was the impression she gave off, in any case. He yawned, feeling tired all over again.

He sighed, shaking his head at her in mock despair, as if he really wanted this unnamed character to find love. Hermione stopped sniffling almost immediately, sensing that it was time to sleep and smirking at his impression of her slightly. She cuddled into him. Her breathing evened out almost immediately, but Ron stayed awake.

He stayed awake for a while longer, trying to figure out what it might feel like being part of something that was bigger than you, to be someone whose existence and life came second to the bigger cause. Right before he went to bed, he had a fairly comical thought.

_That sounds a lot like the Death Eaters to me…_

But that was ridiculous, because what kind of Death Eater would write muggle romantic fiction books?

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><p><strong>The word that inspired this chapter was... Heterotelic: having the purpose of its existence or occurrence apart from itself.<strong>

**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	10. Paregmenon

"Society is no comfort to one who is unsociable."

Ron looked up from his plate, feeling groggy and absolutely _not_ well rested. "What?"

Hermione stared at him in confusion. "Are you feeling alright?"

He simply blinked, lowered his head again, and then tried to conceal a yawn.

"Oh, Ron! I'm so sorry," once she understood why he was acting like this, she seemed to feel bad. "I shouldn't have read that book, especially not in the middle of the night. I'm so sorry."

Ron accepted her hand, which pulled him up to his feet. He towered over Hermione, but she still managed to pull him to her and hug him tightly. A few moments were spent swaying there on the spot, and then she released him. He could tell she was really feeling bad over waking him up, so he sent her a smile. She looked relieved and took a seat next to him.

"So really," he began, now eating in a way that better reflected his usual self. "What was that whole society and sociability thing about?"

Ron knew, the moment after he asked, that she was about to talk his ear off.

"Wait," he held a hand up, rudely cutting her off. "Hermione, I know that our relationship is all about compromise and all that, but please keep this short - I do have to go work. Also, if you make me listen to this, you have to play a game of chess with me." He finished saying this with a joking look on his face, though he was serious. He hadn't played chess in a while.

She nodded, looking slightly hurt, though slightly amused. Then she shook it off and opened her mouth to speak.

"It's called paregmenon. That's when you use two words that come from the same root but don't mean the same thing. I mean... I think so," her forehead creased slightly. "I haven't had advanced enough formal training in English to be sure. In the book I was reading last night," a look of annoyance passed over Ron's features, but he hoped she didn't see it. "The author used that phrase I said when I walked in here. Society and Sociable mean two different things, but come from the same root word, right? So she - the author - used them... I think it's a way to convince the reader of something, because it creates a connection between two words that otherwise wouldn't have anything to do with each other, but that's just my opinion..."

She trailed off, noticing that he was looking at the clock. She rolled her eyes at his obvious lack of interest in learning something new, despite his wish to do so. Hadn't he announced something like that only days ago?

"Go," she told him, smiling to show that she wasn't upset. "Don't be late."

He grinned at her, albeit sheepishly, and planted a kiss on her cheek. He was halfway out the door when he turned around.

"Love you, 'Mione," his tone was so sweet, so loving, that she couldn't help but feel like a schoolgirl whose crush just said her name. She smiled at him, feeling uncharacteristically shy. A giggle escaped her lips before she could clamp her lips down to stop it, and Ron looked pleased with himself.

He turned to leave again, and just before he stepped out of the anti-apparition wards, she called out, "Love you too, Ron!"

_Oh my, _thought Hermione,_ we're absolutely sickening!_ She pressed her fingers to her lips to physically stop herself from giggling again.

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><p><strong>So... if you haven't already realized, this is going to be a pretty fluffy 366 chapters! <strong>

**Anyway, what did you think?**

**The word of the chapter was: paregmenon - the juxtaposition of words that have a common derivation, as in "sense and sensibility."**


	11. Expostulate

"Hermione," Ron's tone was kind, though he looked fed up. "You can't do that. If you move that piece there, it leaves your king so vulnerable... I have three ways to beat you now."

She sighed in exasperation. She had never been good at chess, and it wasn't going to change anytime soon. Despite having read many books on the subject, she found it hard to apply her knowledge onto the actual board. Ron always anticipated her moves, and when she tried to do something random, it was always the mistake that made her lose. She liked the idea of chess - a stimulating game that forced people to have a strategy. It was actually playing it that she hated. Why couldn't it be simpler, something that she could write out a formula for and solve - like an Arithmancy problem, for example. This game had so many variables...

A thought passed through her head. _Is this what wedding planning is going to be like? _The thought was horrifying.

"Your turn," she heard Ron say.

Looking over the board, she moved a piece that she thought would have little effect on the game, but Ron protested loudly.

"Hermione," he said "You can't possibly think that move was smart!"

She shrugged, really indifferent about the whole thing.

On her next turn, Ron talked her through the possible moves she could make, what the consequences of each move were, and then let her make a decision. He reasoned with her, trying to dissuade her from moving the rook, instead telling her what would be less devastating to move.

And so they sat there, playing what had to be the world's slowest chess game, for hours. Ron explained every move to her about three times, looking anxious every time she wanted to move. It was funny, to say the least. If she got even half as worked up as things she cared about as he did about chess, she now really understood why everyone scattered when she started talking.

In the end, she still lost, but Hermione had a new appreciation for Ron. She remembered how he had acted back at Hogwarts all those years about chess, getting riled up at the smallest mistake. Now, he had sat there with her, patiently explaining it all. She really appreciated it, and had even enjoyed it.

Ron looked so happy when she told him that, he looked ready to burst, and Hermione let herself be taken to bed for a rest they both, Ron especially, deserved.

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><p><strong>The word for this chapter was: expostulate - to reason earnestly with someone against something that person intends to do or has done.\<strong>

**Let me know what you think!**


	12. Bonny

A few days later, it was finally Saturday. Ron was grateful for the break off of work, and knew Hermione was too. He could tell that the past week had been tough on her, if only because she still wasn't awake when he got up on. He decided against getting out of bed, wanting to stay there with Hermione for a few more moments, at least until she woke.

He wasn't about to go to sleep again, not feeling tired at all, and settled for looking at Hermione.

He didn't know when it had happened, but it was back when they had first moved in together. Harry had opted to move somewhere more secluded, due to all the attention the media seemed to place on him. They stayed in touch, Ron and Harry especially because they worked together.

In the weeks after Hermione came to live with him, he had realized that he loved watching her when she was still.

That basically only included reading and sleeping, and Ron wanted to take advantage of this situation to gaze at her. She was so beautiful. The scar that ran from her collarbone down to her stomach was pale but visible, but to him it only added to her perfection. He knew she still had problems accepting some of the scars she had acquired during the war, but he did his best to convince her that she was still beautiful whenever he got the chance. It was crazy to think that she couldn't see her own beauty. Her stomach and chest, as well as the blanket covering her stomach, rose and fell with each of her breaths. He felt soothed by the regularity of it. Her facial features were smooth and perfect, though in sleep she was not nearly as expressive as when awake. Ron always loved the challenge of deciphering her expressions, her mood. The problem with her being asleep was that he couldn't see her eyes. They were the colour of melted chocolate, always swirling and sparkling at the very mention of knowledge and always brimming with emotion. He loved the way he could always tell when she was thinking particularly hard about something.

Her small nose gave way to perfectly formed lips, which were constantly pulled into a smile. Ron loved her smile, her laugh.

At risk of sounding like a lovesick girl, he sighed. And she was all his. She had said yes to his proposal, as strange as it had been. Maybe the proper way to describe their relationship was that he was hers. There was almost nothing he wouldn't do for her if she asked him nicely. Ron relaxed into the pillow, smiling at no one in particular.

Moments later, Hermione stirred, throwing an arm over his chest. He lay there in the warmth provided by her body for an age, breathing in her unique scent and feeling as happy as a man could possibly feel.

* * *

><p><strong>The word for this chapter is: Bonny - pleasing to the eye.<strong>

**Let me know what you think!**


	13. Viscid

When his eyes opened again, though he hadn't been aware that they were closed at all, he was greeted with a happy Hermione. She rolled on top of him, holding his head in between her hands and pressing a feather-light kiss onto his lips. His eyes closed again as she deepened the kiss, allowing her tongue to gently and swiftly enter his mouth, teasing and caressing. She swallowed his sigh, biting down on his lip. He smiled as she moved off, he could get used to waking up like that!

He was so happy, in fact, that he offered to make breakfast.

That probably hadn't been the best idea, because a half hour later found him with a viscid substance that was supposed to be batter for some pancakes. She laughed when he showed her, feeling embarassed.

She took one look at the thick, sticky almost-liquid, and immediately made her way to the refrigerator. She pulled out the milk, acquired a spoon, and then proceeded to mix the milk into the stuff he had made. She laughed as he looked on, trying to decide between writing some of this genius solution of hers down and helping her. In the end, they worked together, frying and laughing together until they had made it all. The pancakes ended up a bit lopsided and oddly-shaped, too cooked on one side, not cooked enough on the other, but they ate all of them.

"You know, Ron," said Hermione, piling fruit onto her plate. "That was actually a very good start."

He grumbled something, reapeating it only because she requested he do so. "Don't try to make me feel better, it's your problem-soving that saved it all."

She swatted his arm playfully, and her joined in on her laughter.

Oh yes, waking up to something like this every day for the rest of his life sounded very appealing.

* * *

><p><strong>A shorter one, this time! The word was viscid: having a glutinous consistency; sticky; adhesive<strong>

**Let me know what you think!**


	14. Desinence

The day was spent being lazy and spending time with Hermione. It was a refreshing break from the usual hustle and bustle of work at the Ministry, and definitely involved much less paperwork. Weekends were sometimes like this, but more frequently than not these past few months, one of them had to finish work, go in to the office, or they had plans with family or friends. Just being with Hermione was nice, and Ron was feeling very good and happy.

Unfortunately, Ron's good mood came to an end when Hermione announced something rather unexpected.

"I want you to come visit my parents with me on Friday."

Ron was shocked, not to mention slightly frightened.

"Why?"

Hermione looked away, as if picturing the encounter in her head.

"I don't think you've ever formally met them - as my boyfriend, of course. You did come with me to find them and reverse the charm..." Hermione's voice faltered as she remembered that not-so-happy reunion. Her parents had demanded answers and Hermione always felt as though she had disappointed them in some way. Ron and Harry had been there though, and had been able to comfort her. Thankfully, they had forgiven her.

Hermione's relationship with her parents was growing stronger, but she was always careful around them now.

"I need you there for support... and because what kind of fiancé would you be if you didn't come?"

Ron pulled his arms away from Hermione. He wasn't angry with her or anything, simply shocked. Then again, they had told his family soon after getting engaged; why not Hermione's family? He grasped her hands with his.

She looked up at him with her warm and loving eyes. He could see that she felt as unsure as he did.

"Hermione, don't worry. You're going to be fine. They love you. They have never, however, met me. What if they hate me? What if they don't think I'm good enough for the smartest, most beautiful witch alive?"

That brought a smile and blush to her face.

"What if they think I'm going to make you quit your job and be like my mum," he winced, imagining a mini Molly. Hermione's lip quirked up a bit farther – probably at his expression, "What if they think that this'll be the end of the Hermione they know and love?"

Now he was joking and being overly dramatic, though he had some worries. He was genuinely worried. He had to make a good first impression; he had to win them over in one meeting!

"Then we'll have to convince them that it's not an end, but a new beginning."

Hermione smiled up at him.

"Besides," she said with a suppressed smile "No one can resist the Weasley charms."

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><p><strong>The word for this chapter was descinence: a termination or ending, as the final line of a verse.<strong>

**Review?**


	15. Outrance

After agreeing to the visit and making Hermione very happy, Ron tried to pretend he wasn't worried - he tried to the very outrance -, but the week flew by faster than he would have thought possible. When it was finally time to leave the flat on Friday, Ron found himself worrying about what to wear and feeling as though he had to take another shower because he was sweating through his shirt. _It's all the nervous energy's fault_, thought Ron, idly wondering when he had begun to think things like 'nervous energy'.

Even Hermione, who really didn't have anything to worry about, looked nervous. She was wearing a dress, though Ron wondered how practical that was, it being the middle of the winter. Her hair was pulled back, though the style was nothing too intricate. She looked calm and relaxed, though after going through six or so years of living together at Hogwarts, assorted summers spent together, the war, and being friends with Hermione, he could read her fairly well. Her fingers were constantly moving; picking at her nail, wiping lint off of her shoulder when there was nothing there, rubbing against her thighs to warm them up, and tapping against things like the table and counters. Hermione's breathing sounded heavy and slightly too fast. Both were signs of her uneasiness. In fact, Ron found himself pushing his anxiety and worries down to calm Hermione down.

When it became obvious that no other excuses to stall could be made, Hermione twisted her ring so that it was straight on her finger, grabbed one of Ron's hands in her one of her own, surprisingly warm, palms. She released him so that they could turn off some of the lights in the apartment and, pull on their jackets as slowly as possible. She held his hand tightly as they made their way to the door. Hermione took more time to put up the wards than usual, and finally shared one last glance with him before she apparated them both away. Had the side-along apparition really been necessary?

"...did you think I was going to stay back and make you go alone?" Ron questioned her after they arrived in front of the Grangers' house. Side-along apparition always made him feel sicker than normal apparition, and that coupled with his current nervosity was making him feel quite nauseated. Gulping down a few quick breaths of the frigid air calmed him down enough to smile at Hermione.

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her towards her. It was time for his Gryffindor courage to kick in... Alright, now! Or... now!

_Here goes nothing, _thought Ron, steeling himself.

He raised his free hand and knocked on the door

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><p><strong>Outrance: The utmost extremity.<strong>

**Leave me a review to let me know what you think of this so far!**


	16. Perspicacious

The door was opened by a smiley woman that Ron recognized as Mrs Granger. Her husband was nowhere to be found, something Ron was grateful for. As it was, he could hardly stand on his own two feet.

Hermione's mother looked slightly paler than she had when they had found her in Australia, though that could be attributed with the winter. Ron noticed that her smiled faltered just a bit at seeing him, though it returned moments later. Ron know this visit was supposed to be a family gathering, and he suddenly felt like he was intruding. His attempts at disentangling his fingers from Hermione were foiled when she tightened her grip.

"Come on in, dears," said Hermione's mum, gesturing past her and into a hallway. As they stepped in, Mrs Granger continued, "Hermione, tell me about your friend. I don't think the two of us have been introduced."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced when her mother held up a finger. Her face was screwed up in concentration, and Ron wondered if any of it was his fault. Was she alright?

"Wait," she said a moment or two later "I remember you. A Weasley, if memory serves...? Forgive me, my memory of... this past year is foggy."

Hermione stared down at the floor, face flushed. Her mother seemed to realise the discomfort she had just caused, and tried to backtrack.

"Sorry, what's your name?" Mrs Weasley was looking at him, though Hermione answered.

"He's Ron. Ronald Weasley. He's my boyfriend." Ron simply nodded, feeling a mixture of different things at his inability to speak. It was, in a way, a good thing; he honestly had a gift for saying the completely wrong thing to the most inopportune of times. He extended a hand to her, unsure of the way Muggles greeted each other. Were they more formal, preferring a bow over a handshake, or friendly, favouring a hug as a way of greeting? He felt inadequate in this setting, realising for the first time how Hermione must have felt in the Wizarding world for the first time.

Hermione's mother grasped his hand, nodding politely. "Nice to meet you, Ronald."

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs Granger."

She looked him over, probably stifling giggles at his squeaky tone. After an extended period of time, she smiled at him again. "Ronald, would you help me with the jackets?"

Ron nodded again, immediately feeling like an idiot and blushing deep red.

"Hermione, your father is in the kitchen. Go make sure he knows we have another guest," at that, she patted him on the arm, also taking the opportunity to pull him away from Hermione. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to get another opinion, he's been experimenting for days to find something you're sure to love."

Hermione and her mother shared eye-rolls, and Ron knew there was some sort of inside joke between them about Mr Granger's cooking habits.

Despite the desperate looks Ron was sending Hermione - which Mrs Granger thankfully didn't seem to notice -, she shrugged out of her jacket, handing it to her mother, and turned away from them. As she disappeared into a room - most likely the kitchen -, Mrs Granger began to urge him into action.

"If you will just follow me," she said, pointing further down the hall. Ron managed a watery smile, which Mrs Granger also didn't seem to notice. He trailed behind her, stepping into a room after her. It was decorated in a style that might belong to an adult, though the books piled up on every flat surface gave away whose bedroom it was.

"You can place your jacket here."

Ron was frustrated when, again, he could only nod in response. Thinking that they were going to join the other two, Ron turned to the door. A warm hand that reminded him of Hermione's held him back. Looking into the woman's eyes for the first time made him realise Hermione had inherited the warm and loving look from her mother. Thankfully, it seemed to lower his heartbeat to a more normal pace.

"Relax," she advised, "We won't bite. If you're this nervous to meet us... Imagine what it would be like to have bigger news!" her eyes sparkled at him knowingly.

He looked at her curiously. Did she know? How could she? She had just proven herself to be more perspicacious than he would have ever given her credit for. Or, maybe, she had noticed the ring.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter's word was perspicacious: having a ready insight and understanding of things or having keen mental perception or understanding.<strong>

**Review?**


	17. Alate

Mrs Granger was being surprisingly comforting, making Ron hope that the rest of the evening would go just as well. Perhaps it wouldn't be completely mortifying, maybe they'd be as accepting of him as they had been of Hermione's magical abilities. For a moment, Ron felt like a bird - alate, flying high, and free... When he stepped into the kitchen and was met with Mr Granger, though, he crashed back to the ground. Ron remembered meeting them once - though he hadn't really spoken with Mr Granger back in Australia -, back when shopping for school supplies in... was it second year? Mr Granger had been thin back then, and also much taller than Ron. It seemed, though, that he had filled out a bit since then. Ron was now taller than Mr Weasley, making it absurd that Ron was scared of him. And scared he was.

Why was Mr Granger looking at him like that?

Ron forced his breathing to steady and held his hand out to Hermione's father, hoping no one noticed the tremour of his hands.

"Hello, Mr Granger," said Ron, nearly wetting his pants out of fright when the slightly shorter man gripped his hand. "I don't think we've been formally introduced."

"I believe I remember your father... you've got the same red hair. Forgive me if I'm wrong but are you a Weasley?"

Ron nodded, resisting the urge to run his hand through his hair nervously.

"Yes, it's quite nice to meet you. Sit, will you? I'll bring out the food." The man had obviously felt the tension in the room and must have decided quickly to leave them to go get their meal.

As the three in the kitchen took their time in sitting around the table, Mr Granger arranged the soup bowls and filled them with the most delicious-smelling soup Ron had ever smelled.

"Hermione, this smells amazing," whispered Ron.

Mrs Granger's laugh gave away that Ron hadn't been quiet enough. Hermione just gave him a smile, and Ron took her hand underneath the table. If they were going to get through this night - the most awkward part of which was bound to come up soon -, he needed her help.

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><p>Word of the chapter was... <strong>alate: having wings; winged<strong>


	18. Persnickety

Dinner was enjoyable, if a bit quiet. Hermione tried to engage everyone in conversation, while Ron tried to hide his ring as best he could. Mrs Granger was constantly looking between them, and Ron was almost certain she knew. Mr Granger though... he was an entirely different story. He was intelligent, that much was obvious by the sheer genius of the dinner, but he didn't seem very observant. Hermione had him wrapped around her finger; he hung onto her every word. After dessert, a heavenly chocolate mousse, they shifted over to the sitting room.

Ron had heard of the dessert, though his mother often preferred pasteries and pies. There wasn't anything quite so decadent offered at the Hogwarts meals, so Ron had been slightly wary to try the dessert, but in the end had barely stifled a moan as the delicious, light chocolate melted on his tongue.

"So, Hermione," Mr Granger was sitting beside his wife, looking full and happy. "What brings Ron to dinner?"

Hermione seemed at a loss for words for half a second before exchanging almost-frightened looks with Ron.

"Ron and I have some... news for you two. We wanted to wait a bit longer, but you already asked so-" Hermione broke off her sentence to look back at Ron, who hadn't quite been expecting this so soon.

"Mr Granger, I know it is traditional to ask a father for his daughter's hand. We've, er, reversed this a bit, but we would be - ecstatic to have your blessing."

Hermine nodded at him, a small smile lighting up her delicate features. She took him by the hand.

Mr Granger seemed to understand what he was talking about and immediately looked at their hands. Hermione dropped Ron's hand and showed the ring to her father. He took her hand gently, as if it were made of glass. When he looked back up at them, he had a stern look on his face.

"Hermione," he began in a low voice, catching her eye. "Are you happy with him?"

She nodded, looking teary-eyed at him. "I love him more than anything, dad."

Mr Granger nodded back, turning then to Ron and seeming to hide a small smile. "Ron, you seem respectable. You didn't ask about my muggle appliances once throughout the course of the evening. I believe you will be good to Hermione. Take care of her, please."

And with that, Mr Granger extended his hand out to Ron, who shook it enthusiastically.

Mrs Granger looked as close to tears as Hermione did, and the two women embraced.

"I knew it, you know." Mrs Granger could be heard whispering into Hermione's ear. "I knew when I first met him that you two would end up happy and married with kids and... oh!"

Hermione giggled, pulling away and wiping at the corner of her eye. "I don't know about the kids thing, I heard they're very persnickety and irresponsible. I sure know I was..."

At that, everybody laughed, eventually settling into comfortable conversation and enjoying the rest of the night together.

* * *

><p><strong>The word was persnickety: overparticular; fussy.<strong>

**Review?**


	19. Shiv

Much later in the night, Hermione and Ron finally bid Mr and Mrs Granger goodnight. They took a few steps out of the house, passed the anti-Apparition wards Hermione had set up months ago, and apparated home. Once inside their familiar flat, it seemed as though they both let out a deep breath. Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron, pulling him closer to her. He could feel her smile against his shoulder, and knew there was a matching grin on his face. They had done it! The impossible had been achieved with minimal obstacles in place for them to overcome.

He felt her laugh reverberate through his chest, and felt himself begin to laugh too. Maybe they were being crazy, but in that moment they were both so happy it seemed silly not to laugh.

"We did it," said Hermione "Everything seems so real now... Oh! I can't wait! I love you, Ron." She pressed a kiss to his lips, and he could feel her excitement as clearly as if it were his own.

Pulling away from her, Ron sent her a cheeky smile. "You know, Hermione, though I had my worries, I knew no one could say no to you. Your parents love you and would support you through practically anything. So... I tentatively picked a little something up to celebrate earlier today."

He walked to the fridge and took out a tiny cake. It was plain with white icing and was the perfect size for the two of them. Ron took out a knife and positioned it above the cake. He gestured with a nod for her to join him. She held the knife just above where his hand was, and looked at him.

He didn't say anything and she didn't either, but cutting the cake into two pieces made them both smile.

Ron pressed another kiss to her mouth, expressing all his feelings. They had done it, gotten everyone's approval, and... everything was perfect now. There were no words for his happiness. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them now, and he just couldn't wait for it to begin.

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><p><strong>So. Much. Fluff. :)<strong>

**The chapter was inspired by the word shiv: a knife, especially a switchblade. **


	20. Deucedly

Hermione returned to work that Monday feeling as happy as physically possible. A memo found on her desk informed Hermione that there was an urgent and apparently very important meeting set to take place directly after lunch.

The day passed quickly enough, though Hermione had no clients. She spent the morning organizing her belongings and papers, humming a tune quietly. She ate her lunch efficiently, making sure to check herself for crumbs before the meeting. She took the memo, a few papers, a quill, and an inkpot with her to the meeting, ever the organized bookworm. She arrived at the room specified on the memo right on time and stepped in. She had often invited clients into rooms like this, though she had never been in this one. There was a long rectangular table set in the middle of the room with ten or so chairs set around it.

She chose a seat and set her things down, getting ready for whatever it was they'd be discussing. Most of the people who worked in her department began filing in, and Hermione grew more and more curious as to what was going on. What could possibly be so important to require the entire group of workers from her branch of the Ministry?

Finally, her boss, a short man who went by the name 'Rick', though it wasn't his real name, walked in as well.

He looked around to everyone in the room, counting heads. She wondered what he was up to, as he was looking more serious than she had ever seen him. He caught her eye and nodded. She returned the greeting with a raised eyebrow.

"I know you're all wondering what was so important that I had to call you all in," began Rick, clasping his hands together behind his back. Six or seven of the people in the room nodded. "I have an announcement to make to all of you. I have been planning this for a long time, even though there are consequences... I'm moving to South America."

There was a collective gasp that spread around the room.

"I know you all know how difficult and draining cross-oceanic floo or portkey is, and have almost definitely realized what I'm saying. I'm leaving the Ministry. Now, before everyone begins speaking, I would like to inform you that Miss Granger has been promoted to co-Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

There was applause around the room, but Hermione wasn't concentrating on that.

"Sir," she said, "Who's the other co-Head?"

He looked a bit wary, but answered immediately, gesturing to the door. "Lucius Malfoy will be the other-"

Hermione didn't listen to him anymore, eyes drawn to the door as it opened and let Malfoy in. "Pleasure to meet you again," he said in a deucedly smooth tone that was directed at her. "Hermione."

* * *

><p><strong>The word of the chapter was deucedly: devilishly; damnably<strong>


	21. Remora

This was bad. Very, very bad. It was horrible having to work with Malfoy, but it was even worse contemplating Ron's reaction. He would be absolutely furious. Ron firmly believed - and Hermione agreed - that Malfoy, Lucius at least, deserved Azkaban. Narcissa hadn't given Harry away, which cleared her of all charges in Ron's head, and Draco hadn't given them away in Malfoy Manor, but Lucius had done nothing to redeem himself.

The thing that complicated her opinion of him was that he had tried his hardest to bring the Malfoy name back to its former glory. He had donated millions of Galleons to various charities and had personally helped rebuild parts of Wizarding London. She didn't beleve for one moment that if given the chance, he would change his past actions, but after working with him the remainder of that good-day-gone-bad, she realized he wasn't quite so bad a partner as she had imagined.

He had creative ideas she never would have thought of, though he often insinuated that her 'simple muggle mind' must have melted in the face of his brilliance. He was conceited and made many cruel jokes about her, but she couldn't deny that he was productive. No matter how much of an obstacle his presence was, she realized that with him they might just bring the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures a lot of success. Rick's resignation didn't go through officially for a week, but he had urged them to begin working together.

Hermione was conflicted. In a way, she couldn't stand the idea of working with this heartless excuse for a wizard one more hour, let alone whole months or years, but she also noticed that he did have admirable persuasion skills. She knew he was an asset to the department.

How had he managed to find work at the Ministry again, though?

"Malfoy, if I may interrupt your filing, can I ask how you landed this job?"

He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. "I don't have to answer to you, you know."

She simply waited.

"Well get to work! I can't very well be expected to do all of the hard work."

Hermione shrugged. Wow, Malfoy's nerves were wound tighter than she had imagined. Maybe he was nervous about this job?

"Oh for- I asked our esteemed Minister for Magic if he would be so kind as to offer me a job. He asked if I would be alright working for the department which works to give House-Elves rights and I agreed. I didn't know I would have to be working with _you_, though. I think he believes you will keep me under control."

Hermione filed the information away in her head, not daring to ask why on earth he needed a job in the first place, and began to help him organize papers. She picked one of the many on the table and scanned it, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. She huffed in disbelief a few times, free hand clenching.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Hermione shoved the paper in front of him, hissing the question under her breath. The paper outlined the department's revised budget. It also had the history of previous budgets on it, and Lucius could see that it was nearly half of what it had been last year.

"No," he turned to Hemrione, scowling "I have no idea who did this or approved it. I would appreciate if you could stop blaming me for everything!"

She shrugged again, turning to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"It's nearly six o'clock, I am going home. I will see you tomorrow." And with that, she left the infuriating blonde behind her.

She was going to give him a week. If he didn't make her believe he had changed in a week, she would make him resign. He was not going to be an obstacle for her. If he refused to move from her path, she would simply turn and go the other way. She was going to do well at her new job, and Malfoy was not going to change that.

Oh, and she wouldn't tell Ron.

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><p><strong>The chapter was inspired by remora: an obstacle; hindrance<strong>


	22. Nathless

Ron noticed Hermione looking more stressed than usual the next few weeks. The winter was slowly turning to spring, though her attitude about anything to do with work remained frosty. Ron wondered if she was keeping something from him, but knew not to pry. When her hair started looking frizzy - the way it always did at times she was feeling very irritated, tired, or stressed (like end of year exams at school, for example) - Ron wondered if he should confront her and risk her lashing out in annoyance. She might tell him everything and ultimately feel better, but she was a Gryffindor. A stubborn Gryffindor at that. If she didn't want to admit something, she wouldn't. If Ron tried to get her to talk about whatever was bothering her, it could go horribly wrong.

So Ron tried to stay comforting and supportive which was hard when he didn't know exactly what he was supporting.

One Wednesday evening, while Ron waited for Hermione to return from work, an owl came pecking at the window. It was odd, as owls generally weren't quite so fussy and loud unless they held an important document. What was even stranger was that he had never seen this owl before. It seemed like a standard brown barn owl, nothing too fancy, so Ron let it in and took the letter that was tied around its ankle.

_The Ministry of Magic would like to inform you that there have been changes in staff in branches of the Ministry you are involved with._

_We would like to welcome and congratulate Hermione Weasley and Lucius Malfoy on the recent appointment as co-heads of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. These decisions have been discussed and decided over a few months, and the Ministry believes there will be no problems or complaints. Rest assured, good things are to come!_

_Nathless, if there are any concerns, feel free to contact the Ministry at-_

Ron scrunched the paper up, teetering between tears and anger. How could Hermione not share this huge change in her life with him? Did she think he wouldn't care? And Malfoy, working with Malfoy... that wasn't reason enough for her to confide in him? Could she think that he would go into a fit of anger and hurt her? Did he really seem so selfish.

Ron, who usually didn't have much tact, could tell that this promotion could help Hermione achieve things she had been dreaming about for years! How could she think that he would encourage her to throw that away? Who did she think he was?

Just as Ron was about to leave the room and lie down or something, he saw the doorknob turn and Hermione begin to enter.

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><p><strong>The word was Nathless: Nevertheless<strong>

**I am way behind (as in, twenty days behind), but I promise I'm trying to get more chapters up! **

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	23. Slimsy

Hermione felt eyes on her the moment she entered the small flat. She realized, though it was fairly obvious, that Ron was staring right at her. What surprised her was the sadness in his eyes.

"Ron wh-,"

His eyes seemed to narrow in anticipation and hidden emotion, perhaps trying to get him to build up some courage. She could see he was about to say something, but as quickly as his resolve appeared, it was gone.

"Hey, 'Mione." His voice was almost devoid of all emotion, and his movements were stiff as he stood up. He did not smile at her as he stepped towards her, thrusting a piece of parchment at her before stalking off to the next room. Hermione heard the click of a lock, and then a suspicious sounding sniffle. Then silence. Had he put up a ward or silence spell? What could have gotten him that worked up?

Hermione felt a headache begin to build in the back of her head; Malfoy had been quite irritating and grating that day. She looked down at the parchment in her hand. It was small and there were few words printed on it. In the few seconds it took Hermione to read it, her blood ran cold.

_Oh god, oh god. He knows. He knows, and he knows I didn't tell him. Why, why didn't I tell him? He's going to be so angry. He is going to hate me; we agreed on no more secrets or- oh gods he is going to rip my head off for keeping this from him. Why did I do it? Why on earth did I... what if he thinks I don't trust him?_

_You didn't trust him enough to tell him,_ another voice piped up.

Hermione groaned. Why hadn't she simply told him what was bothering her in the first place.

_Because he would demand you resign or plot something to hurt Malfoy._

Hermione dropped the slimsy bit of paper and began to pace. Her brain was working at a mile a minute and she couldn't stand still. If she had told him earlier on he would have been there to talk to when there were bad days. From the way he reacted to this letter, Hermione realized - simply choosing to walk away, no fights or arguments or silence -, he had proven his maturity. Ronald Weasley had, somewhere along the way, grown up. How could she have been so stupid? And he had seemed so sad. Was it her secret-keeping that had hurt him? Hermione's feelings of guilt grew exponentially in a matter of seconds, and she wondered if Ron would be mad at her. If he was going to be angry, she hoped it wasn't for long. He was usually forgiving, except in some cases when he was simply being stubborn, but she feared this would really change things between them. She had kept a pretty big thing from him for a long time...

She had to apologize.

"Ron!" Hermione practically ran to the bedroom in which Ron currently sat... crying? Packing his things in preparation to leave? Hating her? It dawned on her that his silencing ward might work both ways, and a wave of desperation hit her. She couldn't just let him sit there; she had to explain herself, so she doubled her resolve and began pounding on the door.

"Ron, Ron! I'm really sorry... I didn't know what to tell you! I worried you might do something rash and I realize now that you're not like that anymore. I should have trusted you more than- Ron!" Her hands were going to have bruises on them in the morning, but Hermione kept up her knocking. She was going to take down the door with her bare hands if she had to. "I'm so sorry, Ron. But- but, I can't live without you, please forgive me! I didn't mean to hurt you with this! I really didn't mean to. I apologize for having the character-reading skills of a teaspoon," she let out a short breathy laugh at that reference to fifth year, but regained her composure quickly after. "Please let me in! If you can hear me, Ron, please let me explain!"

When she realized no answer was forthcoming, Hermione let out a choked sob that she hadn't known was building. "Ron!"

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><p><strong>The word was slimsy: flimsy, frail.<strong>


	24. Educe

When Ron opened the door a few hours later, he nearly tripped over Hermione who was staring right at him. Her eyes and facial features were set firmly in place and her lips were twisted in a way that made him think she might be in pain. He waited while she assessed him, taking in the swollen red skin around his eyes and his general rumpledness.

She stood slowly, hiding her hands behind her back, advancing towards him. Her eyes swam with a myriad of emotions, most dominant of which was determination. Was she going to try and educe an apology from him? Girls tended to do that, lay the blame on someone other than themselves and expect a full-blown apology. With that in mind, he blinked, and then quickly stepped behind her, nudging gently for her to enter the bedroom. She stepped forward, turning around when the door closed behind him.

"I'm sorry-,"

"I'm not apologizing,"

They spoke at the same time, and Ron felt lost as it registered that Hermione had said sorry. She was stubborn and always wanted to be right - it came with being a know-it-all -, and Ron had never known her to apologize or admit to a mistake so quickly.

"I shouldn't have underestimated you, Ron." Hermione began, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Thinking about it now, I realize what I did was horrible. I kept this secret from you... In your place, I would hate me! I don't even know why I did it."

Ron looked at her in shock. "Hermione, you're blowing this out of proportion."

She looked up, eyes full of tears. "What are you talking about?"

He sat down beside her, the dip in the mattress he created making her lean into him. "I don't hate you, Hermione. Why do you think I couldn't yell at you earlier, I had to seem angry, but I couldn't do it! I love you."

She sniffled and wrapped her arms around his torso, sighing deeply. "I love you too."

Ron took her hands and kissed each of them before moving up her arm. When he reached her shoulder, he moved and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled.

"What are these?" Ron's voice brought her back to the present and she snapped her eyes open. He was eyeing her hands. Hermione noticed the purple-blue bruises and smiled sheepishly.

"I was... Knocking on the door. You didn't hear me."

He kissed the bruises again, softly. "Don't worry about me acting like a teenager anymore, Hermione. I really have grown up. I just don't understand why they would hire Malfoy."

Hermione nodded and leaned into him again. She smirked a bit, "I'm probably the only one in that whole Ministry they trust enough."

Ron chuckled, a deep rumble shaking Hermione's back. She couldn't help but smile widely. She had expected Ron to be angry about the secret, expected him to accuse her of other things in anger - she had expected him to storm out. This wasn't the outcome she was expecting, but she was glad that it was really happening. She needed Ron. She really did. She hadn't had to educe and extract an - unwilling - apology from an angry redhead after hours of arguing. It had been resolved in a completely mature fashion. She was happy.

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><p><strong>It's been a while, and I've been busy. Here's an update. The word was educe; to bring forth or bring out. <strong>

**Review?**


	25. Bleb

The two of them lay there in the bedroom for hours, enjoying the bleb of happiness that surrounded them. They lay curled up. Sweet exchanges passed between the two of them - something completely uncharacteristic for Ron. He brushed her hair from her face. She caressed his cheek. Soft kisses were also shared.

A rumble from Hermione's (surprisingly) stomach broke them from the stupor. As they got up, Hermione took a look at Ron and giggled.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking confused. His ears got red, and he looked embarrassed.

Hermione immediately felt bad, "It's nothing. Your hair is just sticking up like-." Hermione decided to stop explaining, and simply stepped towards him. Ron's hair was a mess, worse than Harry's, and she helped him smooth it down.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her. "Now, what would milady like to eat?"

She poked at his ribs, "You can't cook well, though. Remember?"

"I could if I tried,"

"I don't believe you," Hermione's teasing tone belayed the challenge she had just presented. It didn't matter, because his eyes were suddenly sparkling with interest.

"Hermione Granger-soon-to-be-Weasley," He grinned, and Hermione did the same. She was really looking forward to the wedding, because it would mark a huge moment in her life and- "I believe you just challenged me to a contest."

He stepped into the kitchen and for a moment Hermione was confused. What was he going to do in there? He came out moments later, holding a cookbook. Ron flipped through the book - a gift from his mother when he announced he was moving out of the Burrow - and smirked. He showed the picture to Hermione. "There! This one looks difficult. You make that one and choose one for me to do. We'll see who's fastest and whose ends up tasting okay."

She giggled, looking forward to this challenge. "That's not fair, what if I choose one that takes less time to prepare! We'll both make the same dish, and then we see which one tastes best."

He shrugged. "Alright," He took out his wand from a hidden pocket, and made two copies of the recipe. "Ready, set, _go_!"

Then they were both skimming through the list of ingredients. At the same moment, they seemed to realize that they didn't have any in stock in their modest-sized apartment. They rushed to the door, moving past the wards as quickly as they could. Twin _pops_ of Apparition could be heard, and then they were gone.

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><p><strong>Hey, here's another chapter. Today I had a day off, and got to write a whole lot! Word of the chapter was bleb; a bubble.<strong>

**Review?**


	26. Mettle

Hermione and Ron were nearly done with their food challenge. Ron had made a few jokes about her deliberately messing up his ingredients and making it harder for him to get things done. She argued back by stating that he was taking up all of the room in the sink and on the stove, and in doing that he was stopping her from getting things done. Now, after nearly an hour and a half of cooking and mixing and baking and stirring, they had their dish. Sweat was streaming down the sides of both of their faces, as the room had heated up when the stove began being used. Hermione was in the lead. This competition had really made them prove and show their mettle by working them so hard that it was difficult to keep up. Buzzers had been ringing, marking off different stages of the preparation.

She was nearly done. Just a few final touches and, "Done!"

Hermione jumped up and down, squealing and giggling. She was hungry, but it had all been forgotten in the face of the competition. Ron didn't look at all surprised that she had finished before him, and even clapped.

"Let me finish with this, 'Mione. We can eat after that." He was grinning from ear to ear, and Hermione was suddenly wary. What had he done?

Moments later, the dishes were cleaning themselves, and the kitchen was straightening itself out. Sometimes, magic really did come in handy. Ron reappeared with his dish. Hermione had placed hers on the table, and Ron set his down as well. He also placed plates and cutlery down on the table. They stared at each other over the table, grinning at the state the other was in.

"You look absolutely hilarious, you know," Hermione commented. Ron simply laughed.

"You look like you used to after a particularly grueling Potions class, hair all puffed up and messy. Sitll absolutely beautiful, you look." She blushed, but waved her hand at him.

"Let's get down to the serious stuff, shall we?" she looked at him straight in the eye. "Which will taste better?"

Ron took a bite of his, sticking his fork into it unceremoniously. He chewed, swallowed, and smiled, "Tastes pretty good!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in mock disbelief. She didn't doubt that it tasted good, but he looked pleased with himself, so it had to be something that surpassed his own expectations. She followed his example and simply poked her fork in. She brought the food back up to her mouth and chewed. Hmmm... it _wasn't_ too bad.

"How about yours, now?" Ron reminded Hermione that this was supposed to be a competition, and she immediately took a bite of her dish. She chewed slowly, savouring the taste on her tongue. It tasted good, but in different ways than Ron's, it had more spices, while his was richer, almost creamier.

He seemed to sense her hesitation and took a bite. "Wow, Hermione. They're both really good."

She nodded in agreement, "Truce?"

He nodded, and they settled into one of the biggest meals - excluding special feasts at Hogwarts or Molly's meals - they had eaten in a long time.

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><p><strong>The word was mettle; courage and strength, fortitude.<strong>

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	27. Conciliate

And now, with no Ron hanging over her head, Hermione was free to try and conciliate Malfoy's trust. She had to admit that at times, he was brilliant to work with.

Her resolve to be nice flew out the window when Lucius Malfoy brought his son to work the next Wednesday. She had been drinking coffee, sitting at her desk. The day had been pleasing so far, and she was in a good mood. Then that familiar smirk croweded her vision. Stormy grey eyes that she had come to recognize as Lucius' came into view first, and then the lighter almost-blue colour of Draco's eyes appeared. He grinned at her, nodding in greeting.

"What's the meaning of this?" Hermione yelled at them, not caring that she sounded crazy. Draco just rolled his eyes, while his father tapped his foot impatiently.

"Father's thinking of retiring, and wants to show me the job. I plan to take over when he leaves."

Two shocks there; Lucius Malfoy thought himself too old to work, and Draco wanted to work in the Ministry. It didn't sit well with Hermione, but she swallowed her surprise. The rest of the room was quiet, all the workers waiting for Hermione's response. If she was to win them over, to overcome the distrust between herself and the Malfoys, she couldn't very well screech at them some more.

"Very well. Be quiet and stick with your father. I don't want to see or hear you."

"Alright, mummy." He mocked, though it didn't hold any bite. She wondered what on earth had happened to the Draco Malfoy she knew and hated. Whatever.

They walked away, Lucius' cane punctuating the sounds of their steps. Hermione slumped against her table, ready to tear her hair out. Not only had the Ministry expected her to put up with one Malfoy, now they were just going to switch the two? Unacceptable, but apparantly necessary. Oh, how she hated the Ministry sometimes.

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><p><strong>conciliate: to overcome the distrust or hostility of; placate; win over.<strong>


	28. Birr

Hermione shot straight up in her seat, disoriented. She almost pulled out her wand - an ingrained movement after the long time on the run - but stopped the impulse from becoming real. She scratched at her cheek, where several of her hairs were tickling. Her hair was tied up in its usual bun, the one she sometimes wore for work. Wait... work. Oh Merlin, had she fallen asleep on the job? Hermione flushed in embarassment, even though it seemed that no one had noticed.

A glance at her clock told her she'd been asleep for nearly two hours. She had hardly even been tired, waking up that morning earlier than usual.

And then she remembered Malfoy. With renewed birr - her nap had done wonders on her energy levels, which hadn't been all that low to start off with - she scowled. Hermione's considerable mind raced, and she finally came to a startling realization. Draco wasn't allowed to just take over his father's position. That was not the way things worked, especially with people that needed specialized Aurors to look over them.

Eyebrows furrowed, she tried to think this through logically. The only answer her brain seemed to come up with was impossible. The Malfoys had been teasing her!

_No, _thought Hermione, _impossible. Malfoys don't joke, they... they just don't!_

She felt the urge to scream again, frustrated. If she confronted them, she faced the possibility of being wrong. That was as unacceptable to Hermione as she had thought making jokes was to Malfoys.

Hermione's brain felt muddled, unclear, and she wondered once again what was happening to her. She'd just woken from a nap, and she was feeling tired all over again. She'd have to ask Mrs Weasley or a healer about it.

Voices drifted down the hall, and into her ears. Not speech, but laughter. Malfoy's laughter. _How strange,_ thought her rather addled brain.

"She said yes, Father. Can you belive it?"

The older Malfoy answered, "Ah, that's what put you in such a good mood. You agreed to come with me to the Ministry, so I knew something was up. Do you think it's wise, however, to leave Astoria, your fiancée so soon after she accepted?"

His tones were short, though Hermione could hear something - some sort of emotion - behind them. As they appeared beside her desk, continuing the walk to the door, Hermione said, on a whim, "Congratulations, Malfoy."

He looked at her in surprise, as did her father. They casually exchanged a glance, and Hermione could see that they knew _she _knew what Draco'd done. A moment of silence, then a short nod. They left, and Hermione put her strange feeling of closeness to Malfoy out of her head. Something about them both being engaged was heartwarming.

She threw herself into her work, banishing all thoughts of becoming friends with Malfoy and Astoria - _ooh, they could double date with her and Ron! - _as best she could.

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><p><strong>birr: force; energy; vigor.<strong>


	29. Hotchpot

The day passed uneventfully, though Hermione felt a strange lack of energy. She filed and cateorized dutifully all day, and was more tired than ever before when she finally locked everything up and stood to leave. She was so tired that her head was pounding and the floor looked shaky. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath. What would Ron say about her current state? Hermione somehow, for some reason, didn't want to go home. It was a rather irrational worry, and Hermione's head knew that. There was something there, though, that made it hard to convince her limbs to follow the orders of her brain.

Everything she did seemed to be very slow, and it took forever until she managed to drag herself to the fireplaces. It was the only place in the Ministry that was connected to the Floo network. Her vision blurred, and she wondered through the haze what on earth was going on with her.

Someone passed her and in the hustle and bustle that was usually found near this exit, accidentally bumped her to the side. Hermione cringed as the headache that had been building in her head suddenly spilled over and began pounding behind her eyes, making her screw up her features to stay silent. This was not right, headaches simply were _not _this painful.

"...their shares may be large enough to permit and are not to be brought into hotchpot - sorry - I thought I'd already explained this to you..." Hermione vaguely heard him apologize to her, and she struggled to push herself upright again.

It took an incredible amount of willpower to make her way to the desks in front of the fireplaces. She clenched her teeth, "Hermione Granger, using the Floo to return home." It was the standard information that she was supposed to give the secretary.

Why was her body protesting so much against going home, the very thought made her head pound and a dull ache to spread through her body.

The witch at the desk hardly looked up, and missed the fact that Hermione seemed to be in a lot of pain. She handed Hermione a pouch filled with just enough floo powder and returned to whatever paperwork she was doing.

Hermione was just lucid enough to think, _what wonderful security we have here in the Ministry. You'd think they would learn..._

Her arm twitched madly as she lifted it to toss the floo powder into the fireplace, and she had to steady it in her second hand to throw accurately. When the flames turned green, she opened her mouth to say, "Hermione and Ron's apartment," but she couldn't. She tried her best, and before the powder ran out and she ran out of time, she said, "The Burrow!"

Hermione stepped into the fire, which was thankfully still burning with magical green flames, and couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

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><p><strong>Word was hotchpot: the bringing together of shares or properties in order to divide them equally...<strong>

**To anyone wondering, this will not be a Dramione story, nor will it be a Hermione/Death Eater fic. Romione. Thanks.**

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	30. Neoterism

Hermione opened her eyes after she was sure she was out of the Floo. She expected all her earlier pains to return with force, but she felt nothing. She felt fine.

Well, she felt fine until she thought about going back to her apartment. There was a slow increase in her breathing as she broke out in cold sweat. Someone came into the room, and she knew it was Mrs Weasley.

"Hermione, dear, what are you doing here?" She didn't sound angry, but Hermione knew she was slightly offended by the impromptu arrival.

"I can'nna go home," was all she said. Her voice wavered.

"What?"

Hermione tried to enunciate to make it clearer, "I want to but can't go... home," Hermione cringed when she thoguht of going back home. Hermione wondered if Mrs Weasley had noticed.

"Hmm... I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. Hermione, are you feeling alright; didn't eat any of the Twins' candy, did you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Well then, I'll call Ron. I would suggest you to lie down. You can tell me everything later," Mrs Weasley had shifted into mother-hen mode, and Hermione felt a flash of love run through her at the thougt. Mrs Weasley was already like a mother to her.

She assisted the disoriented Hermione to the sofa, where she conjured some blankets, a pillow, and instructed her to lie down.

"I'll go call Ron," she said, before going through the Floo to call him; he was sure to be home, as he was usually there before her, and she'd stayed a bit late at work - making up for her nap.

Home, the thought was painful. But then the floo flashed green and Ron stepped out. Her mind was still thinking about their little apartment, and suddenly it was a lot easier to think about it. What had suddenly become painful was the Burrow.

She thought it rather strange, until she realized that Ron had been at home, and was now here at the Burrow. Was he the cause of her pain, and why? It was too painful to look at him, and her headache was back. She could hardly think, and closed her eyes to block it all out. She passed out once again when the mental pain became too much, and she could hardly remember her name.

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><p><strong>This chapter was neoterism: an innovation in language, as a new word, term, or expression.<strong>

**I modified it a bit, and Hermione said it.**

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